My Neighbour Asked Me For A Massage
One minute teasing and gentle, the next rough and fierce.She thought that nothing could surpass this ... this liquid heat that was seeping through her, languidly, from head to feet. She had missed this; missed him with all her being. Only he could make her body purr like cook's fat tabby cat, Flourmill.Tearing his lips from hers, he seated himself on her stool and bunched her shift in one hand. Raising it to her waist, he used his other hand to pull her closer. He looked up at her, his mouth just inches from the juncture of her thighs. At the erotic image, she closed her eyes. He placed tiny kisses on the inside of her thighs; first one, then the other. When his tongue moved to her hidden lips, she gripped his shoulders as her knees went weak.He licked up one side, then down the other. Oh so slow and methodical. Maddeningly slow. She thought she'd burst into flames. His free hand came around her waist to hold her to him, his breath hot on her slit; his tongue like liquid silk on her. When I got there, the man in front of me made eye contact,and he spoke."I swear, the worst thing you can do is show up for Jury Duty once.They get you in here, and they figure 'OK, we got a new sucker. Keepsending out the notices.' I get called down here every damn year now." Same here, buddy." I replied. "And the thing is, if you ignore asummons, do they really send the cops after you? But if you obey itonce, I bet they will send an officer out if you ever stop showing up." No doubt." He said.The line started moving, just as I anticipated. At least if you've donethis before, you know exactly what's going to happen. Eight o'clock,doors open and people file in. Find a seat and wait. Eight thirty,they start checking you in. Eight forty five, they play that ridiculouscivics video about how important the jury is to truth, justice and theAmerican way. And at 9:00, they start calling groups of jurors to go tosomebody's courtroom for Voire Dire. That's Latin for "listen.
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